Red Russian Games
by frecles
Summary: Jane is being held hostage by someone who reminds him of his past and is out to get revenge, while Lisbon searches for the daughter of a defense attorney, and is unwittingly part of a deadly game that she has no control over. It is set sometime in season 4. Somewhat AU. Rated T for safety, I don't think it will be that high but I'm not sure where it's going to end up. Enjoy.


They say that everything has a beginning, and that everything has an end. They also say that there are moments, rare, beautiful, sometimes incomprehensible moments, where a new beginning is just inexplicably there, in front of you. Waiting.

She knew, just somehow knew this morning, that it was a new beginning. What she couldn't figure out was why it felt so wrong.

She walked slowly, allowing her heels to clack noisily on the bare concrete of the basement floor. The sound spoke of ominous happenings and uncontrollable situations. This was right. This was how she needed him to feel. This is how he deserved to feel.

So why, why did it feel so very, innately wrong?

She stepped forward towards her captive and removed his blindfold. His eyes were beautiful; blue and green crashing together, fighting for dominance. He struggled to gain composure and an air of control to use to manipulate her. But this was not how her new beginning went. Her new beginning went with a crash and a bang and revenge on Patrick Jane.

She watched him scan her features, looking for any crack in her armour, amour that was almost impossible to break. Especially because he helped create it. She sat in the chair across from him, and watched him, legs crossed, trying to read her, to find out what new peril he was in.

She smirked and leaned in closer. She felt it in her bones, in her mind, in her soul. This was _right_. This was what was supposed to happen. This needed to happen. If not her it would be somebody else. If not for her father than for several dozen others, who too, had suffered at his hand. This was right, no matter what her betraying conscience whispered at the back of her head.

When she spoke, her voice sounded endless knowledge about control, ease and hate. He stiffened as he listened to her simple words, searching every syllable, every letter for information that could help him out of this situation. She knew he could find very little.

"Who am I?"

He licked his lips and opened his mouth, his voice sounding rasped and harsh in her ears. "I don't know. Who are you?"

"And here I thought you could tell me, Boy Wonder" She smiled and relaxed in her seat, looking entirely at home in the dank basement. Waiting for his answer she smiled and made sure he was aware of the cold metal lying in her lap.

"I can't actually read minds, I'm not psychic. There are no such things as psychics."

An anger spurted through her body, welling up, almost blinding her with rage, before retreating into a locked box at the back of her mind. A box that's debt would be repaid soon.

"Tell me, Mr Jane, do you like games?" she smiled as she watched him rummage around his complicated thoughts, looking for the safest answer, but for him, the answer wouldn't matter. The game would begin soon, with or without his help.

"I do" He said slowly, clearly at a loss for words, just searching to find a reaction.

"Good, because you're about to play one. See you like to toy with people, to play on their weaknesses, to force them into a game they can't possibly win. You need to know how that feels."

She pulled the gun from out of her lap and brought it in front of her eyes, pretending to inspect the weapon that she knew as an extension of her own body, a harder, sharper side of her that spoke of finality and fatality. She gave a cold smile and aimed it at Patrick Jane's head.

"Well, Mr Jane, have you heard of Russian Roulette?"

_..._

Teresa Lisbon stood facing a clear plastic board. The photos of the missing person only serving to give her a stronger sense of urgency. It had now been three days.

A few hours for someone to notice. A day to report it. A few hours for the case to be handed to the CBI. A day of getting nowhere.

Lisbon was well aware that the more time that passed the less likely it was to achieve a good outcome. The less likely it was that it was a mistake, that it was harmless or that their missing person was still alive.

Lisbon felt the worry and the impending sense of doom erode her cool and controlled exterior. Van Pelt walked up behind her, file in hand, to hand her a coffee and tell her that there had still been no activity on the victim's credit card. 'No not victim' Lisbon thought 'missing person'. But she and her team had little optimism left.

"Boss, do you have any idea where Jane is?" asked Van Pelt. Teresa thought fondly of her rookie agent, and how concerned she sounded for their co worker, but could not quite bring herself to smile.

"I don't know. It was the... it was an anniversary last week." She said, carefully choosing her words. "I think he just needs some space" She lifted the bitter drink to her mouth and swallowed, trying to push Jane to the back of her mind and focus on their case. Jane would turn up sooner or later, with or without her obsessing over it. This girl however may not.

"Is there anything we can do?"

Lisbon shook her head slowly. "Just try to be respectful and not ask about it is usually best."

Lisbon turned abruptly to face her team in the bullpen. "Have we found any letters that seem like genuine threats?"

"It's hard to tell. I sent them down to a profiler."

"Good work Cho. I'm going to go talk to the father again. Cho with me, Van Pelt, Rigsby you stay here and work the boyfriend angle and keep an eye on her bank transactions. If Jane shows up give me a call".

The orders were fired in rapid succession, followed by a chorus of 'Yes Boss'. She started walking and pulled out her phone to check her messages just in case Jane had called her and she had missed it, but there were no messages or missed calls. She thought briefly if he hadn't made contact by tomorrow morning she would stop at his cheap, dingy motel on the way to work.

With the ding of the elevator, she snapped herself back into reality and stepped onto it, Cho at her heels. This was going to be a long case.

A very long case.

_..._

Patrick Jane surveyed the woman in front of him. He had the growing sensation of seeing her before. She looked like someone from his past, but she was far too young to have been a part of his former days playing the role of a psychic. He took in her looks, searching her face for any sign of weakness, anything he could use to get just enough room for him to leverage himself out of his current predicament.

She had flat blonde hair and cold blue eyes. Her clothes were simple and not overly expensive, but they showed good taste. He found himself thinking about how two dimensional she looked. She could have almost been a reflection, or a photograph, it weren't for the breath he felt on his face when she leaned forward.

He watched as anger displayed itself across her features and almost recoiled. She quickly righted herself and smiled. There was ice there, and contempt and something else that Jane had grown all to familiar with. _Revenge._

Jane knew he had to treat her with caution. Revenge made people unpredictable and angry, and he could already see the battle of the conscience going on inside her head. He swallowed hard and tried to play along with her unpredictable plot.

"I do" He said it almost as a question, seeing her delight.

"Good, because you're about to play one. See you like to toy with people, to play on their weaknesses, to force them into a game they can't possibly win. You need to know how that feels." His blood started to go cold as he sensed that this was going to be a game he wasn't going to get out of this as easily as he thought.

He started to panic as she pulled the gun out of her lap and pretended to inspect it. He supposed it was for drama, and for the fun of seeing him scared, and it was working. Jane didn't like guns.

Murder was something enormous. An entire life the potential for so much joy and love, taken, stolen, destroyed by a single person for their own personal gain. It was something horrific, something evil. Guns made it so much easier to take a life, often with no thinking, no preparation and no guilt.

She lifted it and pointed it at his head, smiling at her own control of the situation.

"Well, Mr Jane, have you heard of Russian Roulette?"

His blood ran cold and heart rate sped as he looked into the barrel of the revolver. He swallowed thickly, seeing that his life came down to chance. "I have"

"Good". She smiled and cocked her head to the side. He saw the doubt flicker for just a moment before she continued. "Because you will be playing it with Miss Teresa Lisbon"

**A/N: I Am Still Working on Red Ink, and sorry for not having posted in so long, I've just had exams, which I have now finished. My Updates should be quicker and more regular because I am now on holidays.  
Thank you to my supporters and special thanks to the wonderful smileyjunior and please let me know what you think. I can see how reviews can become addictive :)**


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